by Norma Gail
He turned away, clearing his throat. “Bronwyn collected them. I haven’t altered much of anything belonging to her. I guess it’s ridiculous to keep them. They don’t mean anything to me. When I try to change things in the house, the depression becomes worse, so I stopped trying.” He turned away again. Would she accept his problem or see it as weakness?
“I suffer from something similar myself. I refer to it as ‘Miss Havisham Syndrome.’” Her voice was soft with understanding.
She laid her hand on his, pulling him back with her touch.
“You mean from Great Expectations?”
“Exactly.”
He let her precede him into the barn, marveling again at the compassion in her eyes as he had the first night. “Adam professed to believe in God. He convinced me that he was serious, too. However, his actions weren’t consistent with his words. It’s been hard to make myself move on. Sometimes I feel stuck in time.”
“Bonny, I won’t lie to you—ever. Will you trust me with your story?” He softened his voice, reaching over and tilting her face toward him with his finger under her chin. “Holding onto it allows him to keep stealing from you over and over.”
She remained silent for so long, he expected her to refuse, but she sat down on a hay bale and began. “We met as undergrads and dated through his law school and my doctoral dissertation. He’s ambitious, interested in politics.”
Her voice quivered with emotion. Her expression looked as if she were preparing to leap off Ben Nevis. “We became engaged while my mom was having chemo for a brain tumor. She died two months later and we postponed the wedding. My dad needed me, and I needed time to grieve. Seven weeks after she died, my dad found out he had pancreatic cancer. He died six months after my mom.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Our entire engagement was under the shadow of their cancer and deaths.”
Bonny paused, and he offered his handkerchief. When he bent down to hand it to her, the sweet scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, in sharp contrast to the barn’s tangy odor of manure.
“Adam wasn’t supportive when they were dying—when I needed him the most. I excused it, convincing myself he couldn’t handle being around sick people. But, the day after my dad’s funeral, with the wedding invitations addressed and ready to mail, he broke our engagement. At least I learned the truth before I married him.”
He sat next to her, placing one hand in the middle of her back, noting once again how small she was. His hand covered most of her back, and he softened his tone, not only because of her pain, but because of the overwhelming desire to protect her. “You’re as crippled by your pain as I am.”
“He dumped me for an attorney in his office.” She stood, turning her back to him. Her words rushed out like flood waters on the Garry, and he sensed shame mingled with pain in the torrent. “He claimed he was a Christian, but he began dating behind my back when I was busy caring for my parents. I don’t understand why he stopped loving me. I felt so worthless, as if I wasn’t important enough to wait for until the difficult times passed. What was I to do? I had to care for my parents. I needed his support ...”
When Kieran stood and wrapped his arms around her, she buried her face in his chest, her hot tears wetting his shirt. He had forgotten the tender, protective sensation of comforting a weeping woman, the helpless feeling of wishing he could make things right. “Wheesht,” he murmured, smoothing the shimmering silk of her hair. “Bonny, only a dunderheid would make you feel worthless. It reflects on him, not you. The first time we talked, I realized you were special.” And if he had married you, I would never have met you.
“But he chose Vanessa over me, after all those years …” Her arms slid around him, making his mouth go dry and his heart beat faster. “Everyone offered advice. I was humiliated. Returning wedding gifts was a nightmare. The dress still hangs in my guest room closet.” When she looked up, tears were sliding out from under her eyelids, black streaks of mascara cascading down her cheeks in their wake.
On impulse, he blotted the tears from under her eyes with his finger. It felt right to hold her, to have her seek comfort in his arms. “He was cruel, and you’re not at fault. I can’t imagine—the person you love continuing on with someone else. There’s no need to feel ashamed.”
She massaged her throat, a nervous gesture he’d noticed before. “One reason I came here was to escape, but he keeps calling. He left a message once, but I recognized his number. Kari wants me to block him. I can’t ...”
He pulled her close again, an instinct to shield her from more pain surging through him. “Don’t allow him to harass you, Bonny. Let me block it for you. Or better yet, change your number.”
Gratitude showed in her eyes when she looked up. “Thank you, but I need to take care of it myself. I refuse to let him keep a hold on me. I—I was afraid you’d think there was something wrong with me if you learned he left me for someone else.”
“Never.” He rubbed her back, his arms still around her. “The problem was him, not you.”
Could he be certain about that? They hadn’t known each other very long.
Mounting up again, they headed toward the bridge across the loch. Bonny pointed at first one thing and then another, questioning him about everything. He hadn’t laughed so much in a long time.
“It’s so beautiful here.” Her face was glowing. “In spite of what The Clearances did to the land and the dam filling the glen, it’s pristine, timeless, as if it has lain untouched forever.”
“Aye, but civilization made its mark here long ago and continues to this day. In spite of the preservation and reforestation, they’re preparing to build the largest hydroelectric dam in Scotland up the slopes of Meall Coire nan Saobhaidh. They’ll dam the burn, turning a small loch on the upper slopes into a large reservoir. The powerhouse and tunnel facilities will be underground to avoid destroying the scenery, but the view from the top of the Beinn will change forever.”
When she shook her head, a small shaft of sunshine caught the highlights in her hair. “Wow, coming from a place where reservoirs look out of place wherever they are, I can imagine why people here would find that upsetting.”
“It’s home, and changes in the scenery are difficult. I’m grateful so much will be underground.” They headed across the bridge toward Torr na Carraidh and Greenfield.
“The woods across the loch are the result of reforestation?” She tried to see everything at once, and he imagined her head turning in circles like an owl.
From the center of the bridge, nothing obstructed their view of the loch. “Yes, with native conifers and broadleaves.” Her enthusiastic response to his home increased his desire to rid his life of loneliness and share it with someone. “To the left is the Laddie Wood, one of my favorite places as a wee boy. I know it like my reflection in the mirror. Over to the southeast is Bolinn Hill, home to a group of MacDonells and Stewarts until their eviction in the late 1700s. A remnant stayed on, but by the early 1800s they headed to Glengarry County in Canada. Very little remains, though it’s a popular place to hike. They’re restoring an oak wood that once stood there.”
She cantered ahead, waving one arm around as if taking in everything at once. “I can’t wait to explore it with you, on horseback, hiking, fishing—did I tell you I used to hunt with my dad?”
“Is there anything you don’t do?”
She stopped her horse and cocked her head to one side. “Hmm, I can’t toss a caber.”
He stifled a laugh, and in the most serious tone he could manage, said, “I’ll teach you if you like.”
The sound of her laughter reminded him of music, and he joined her. It felt good, happiness rather than the depression that frightened him. Perhaps it wasn’t too late.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I started to say that one of these days I could take you out fishing in the boat. We can also wade the River Garry, since you fly fish.”
“I already e-mailed Kari to have her send my gear. She was shipping over som
e clothes I wanted anyway. I’ll need help, since I’m not familiar with Spey casting.”
For a brief moment, he pictured himself standing in the river, his arms around her, his hands on hers, helping her master the technique. The thought was intriguing. “Your hands are too small to handle a Spey rod. The cast itself is merely a two-handed technique for a large roll cast, when there’s no room to back-cast.”
He hated for the day to end, but the sun was low in the sky. “We need to feed the horses and head back to town before it’s too late. I’ll take you to dinner.”
“Race you back to the barn,” Bonny shouted as she prodded Misty in the sides, taking off at a gallop.
“You can’t win.” He prodded Storm in the sides, passing her with no problem, halting near the barn.
A few minutes later, she rode up laughing. “I should make certain I can win before I start a race.”
“Aye, and have a horse capable of winning. I expected a fine horsewoman like yourself to judge the capabilities of your mount with more accuracy.”
“I only wanted to laugh and have fun. You did, didn’t you?” She was out of breath. “We both need more laughter in our lives, Professor.”
Then perhaps you’ll decide to stay, and I won’t always feel sad and alone. The unspoken words surprised him, but she was everything his heart longed for. “That we do, Professor.”
Kieran looked up from his desk at the sound of Deirdre’s cheerful hello, and smiled. She was pretty enough and made it obvious she was interested in him. It made him uncomfortable, and not just because of Bonny.
“Did you pass your test?”
Her glossy red lips curved into a flirtatious smile. “A perfect score, thanks to you.” She sat down and scooted the chair close, laying her hand on his forearm.
“I do my best. You still have to know it when it comes to the test. You’ve put in a lot of work. You deserve it.” He reached for his algebra book. “So let’s move on to the next chapter.”
“That’s what I hoped you’d say.” She moved her chair a little closer.
“What are you talking about?” Her perfume filled the small office. Bonny had said it was Beyonce’s Midnight Heat.
“I want to invite you over for dinner to thank you for all your help.” The neckline of her dress was too low, especially for a woman of her generous proportions. Coupled with the cologne, he found it distracting.
“That’s nice of you, but unnecessary. I get paid for tutoring.”
She frowned. “I know, but you go above and beyond, Kieran. I appreciate you.”
“Thank you, Deirdre, but I don’t date students. Now let’s begin on page 150.”
She laid a well-manicured hand on his arm again, red lacquer glistening on her fingertips. “Kieran, I simply won’t take no for an answer,” she crooned.
“I could go to another tutor, so I’m not your student. My grades might suffer some, but we could be together.” Her voice had taken on a seductive tone. “Tell Dr. Bryant we’re having an extra tutoring session.”
“You’re still a student at the college where I’m on faculty, Deirdre. I can’t.”
“If you change your mind, the offer stands. That rule doesn’t have to apply to you and me.” She leaned against his arm.
“Let’s do the math. I’m here to be your tutor.”
When she left an hour later, he heaved a sigh. Every week he wondered if he had said something to encourage her. He was supposed to have dinner with Bonny, so he took a deep breath and dialed her number. “How about if I take you out for dinner tonight?”
“Sure, if you want to. Any special reason?”
“No, I just thought you might have had a long day too, that’s all.”
Chapter Ten: Of Trout and Rainbows
Kieran realized he was staring with an open mouth when Bonny came through the kitchen door, dressed for fishing. “You belong on the cover of an Orvis catalog.”
Her eyes were the green of his mother’s antique beryl brooch, and soft clouds of mist formed in the cool, damp air every time she breathed. “I told you I had everything I need and more. Kari and Dan love fly fishing, so she knew what to send.”
An olive-green shirt peeked out from under an Aran wool sweater and waterproof jacket. She even made chest waders look feminine. Wearing a wide-brimmed hat of olive drab sporting a large bow, she was the most appealing fishing buddy he’d ever had. He noted with approval the wicker creel, her net, a vest with flies, and assorted paraphernalia. Once again, he thought how unique she was, so feminine he ached for the scent of her, a touch even as small as his hand on her back. Everything with Deirdre was just playing around. With Bonny it was becoming serious. But how could he reconcile his love for Bronwyn with this intense longing for the company of another woman?
He took Bonny’s rod and creel, catching her free hand tight in his own. It made him feel like he could scale Ben Nevis in one giant leap. “I put a fighting butt on a regular rod. It should work like a Spey rod, but fit your hands, allowing you to play a good-sized fish for a while.” He gave her the rod, her exuberant smile filling him with an odd sensation of floating down the river, weightless and without a care. “You’ll learn fast. The technique is identical to a large roll cast.”
She gave him a sweet smile and squeezed his fingers. “Okay, let’s head for the river.”
The Garry snaked its way between Loch Quoich to the west and Loch Garry, rushing and tumbling over rocks and between tree-lined banks that were lush and green. The air was pleasant and warm for autumn, and the white, fluffy clouds showed no sign of rain. He stepped in first, reaching for her hand as she came down the slippery bank.
“I haven’t fished since my mom got sick. I’ll need a refresher course. Will you stand behind me to help?” Her thick, auburn lashes fluttered as she met his eyes and he almost dropped the rods.
“Are you flirting with me, Dr. Bryant?”
“What do you think?”
He stepped back, feeling a rush of warmth. “Let me watch you cast.”
She performed a very poor roll cast, and he felt certain she was setting him up. From the snaps he had seen, she knew how to fly fish. The thought of her teasing to entice him to put his arms around her was delightful.
He stepped up close beside her, noticing again how well she fit right under his shoulder. “I’d better help.”
“Those pictures of Dad and me on the San Juan River were from before my mom’s cancer. It’s been three years.”
He encircled her with his arms, savoring her nearness as he placed his hands on hers. When she looked back, her eyes were shinning, and he had to force himself to remember they were two wounded people who needed to take their time.
“Let me place your hands in the correct position.” The soft, silky curls that escaped from under her hat and blew across his face smelled of citrus. Holding her this close, fishing was the last thing on his mind.
“How’s this?”
Her hands weren’t positioned right at all, but playing along was too much fun. “Ach, Bonny, keep your hands shoulder-width, put the bottom hand on the butt, and the top hand at the top of the cork.” Once again, he reached around her, placing his hands on hers.
She moved further back into his arms. He had never considered fishing a contact sport, but the idea was appealing. “Move your top hand up and down until it’s comfortable.”
They practiced holding the line against the rod with the top hand, stripping it off the reel and locking it in place with her middle fingers, and then shooting the line. After about ten minutes, he stood back with reluctance to watch her cast on her own. It was perfect.
He heard the crack of a twig breaking, and caught a flash of blue through the trees. Someone was watching them. Whoever it was had disappeared when he turned for a better look, and then Bonny was shouting.
“Whoa, Kieran, I caught one. Come help me.” She was whooping as he came alongside. The air surrounding her was electric with excitement. She knew what she was doing and w
as good at it too. Watching her play the small trout, there was no doubt she had beguiled him into putting his arms around her. The rush of elation was akin to winning the Highland Games.
“Oh,” she squealed as there was a flash in the water and her fish disappeared. “What happened?”
He doubled over laughing, holding his sides.
“Did you see that?” Her mouth opened wide in surprise. “It took my fish. What was that?”
Kieran struggled to catch his breath. “One of the larger trout from the loch must have swum up the river. It ate your fish.” He couldn’t stop laughing.
“It ate it?” They waded to the bank, plopping down side by side. When one stopped laughing, the other started again, on and on until both held their sides and lay back, breathing heavily.
“You said we needed to laugh more.” A curl had come loose, and he reached over, tucking it behind her ear.
“We certainly did.” She giggled again. “That was so strange.”
“I’ve fished these waters since I was a boy, and it’s a first for me. The bigger browns live deep in the lochs and eat smaller fish. They grow quite large, and anglers catch them with lures from boats. They’ve been known to swim up the river on occasion.” The joy of the shared experience made him choke up with longing. “I never expected to feel this happy ever again.”
Her eyes connected with his.
“I feel it too.” Her voice was soft as a whisper as she looked away, fiddling with the scissors hooked to her vest. She stood and walked over to where her rod lay on the grass. It seemed as if every time he got too close, she made a move to avoid deeper intimacy. There was a small ache near his heart as he watched her step back into the water. He could strangle Adam for wounding her so deeply.
“Come on, I want trout for dinner.” She motioned him toward the water.
He had to move with care. His loneliness made him eager, but she needed time.
